


How I Miss That Bright Sun

by Callioope



Series: Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bedsharing, Comfort, F/M, Rebel Captain Appreciation Week, Rebelcaptainprompts, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-17 22:39:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10603737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Callioope/pseuds/Callioope
Summary: Cassian can no longer sleep in an empty bed, let alone the cramped bunk on his U-Wing.Ghosts creep in the shadows, noises echo in the cavity of his head. A blaster shrieks, someone screams.And no one is here tonight to pull him away from it.#Jyn and Cassian should know better by now than to go on separate missions. (Or: Jyn and Cassian can't sleep.) For the Rebelcaptain Appreciation Week prompt "Comfort."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Taking a stab at the bedsharing trope. 
> 
> Title is from "Spirits" by the Strumbellas. That song just gives me All The Feels for Cassian.

Cassian can no longer sleep in an empty bed, let alone the cramped bunk on his U-Wing.

Ghosts creep in the shadows, noises echo in the cavity of his head. A blaster shrieks, someone screams.

And no one is here tonight to pull him away from it.

So further in he goes. Through dark, crowded streets, he shoves his way past familiar faces. The beggar children played with him on Fest, before they were blown away by Imperial bombs. The merchants gave him intel, before he betrayed them. The shoppers fought beside him, before he left them behind.

He has to hurry. The faster he pushes, the thicker the crowd gets. Shoulders block him, hands grip him, but only ever enough to slow him down. They never stop him.

At last he finds Tivik. He clings to him, like the clutching hands of the crowd, and he pleads for the information Tivik knows.

Tivik says nothing, won't open his mouth to unleash his cinnamon spice breath, but the smell is all around Cassian now.

The troopers are coming, loud at the end of the alley. Cassian shoots Tivik in the back, like he always does.

And when the ‘trooper reaches him, he says, “Well done, Captain.”

#

Jyn sits in the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon, alone. Cold stars stare down at her, far away and blank. What did people think the stars were before they could fly to them? Her mother would have known.

She’s supposed to be keeping watch, but no one is coming for them in the middle of this forest. There are no towns for miles, no homes for miles, no souls for miles.

Somewhere down below, something clangs, and Han swears, and Leia yells. See Threepio offers unwanted advice and both voices join in unison to shoo him away.

Jyn leans back in the chair, stretches her legs out, and props her feet on the console. She sighs, and thinks of a different ship, a different droid, a different crew. A different captain.

As her eyes drift shut (she hasn’t been sleeping well on this mission), she thinks of his eyes crinkling in the corners, his timid smile, his lilting voice in his ear.

But just as sleep folds gentle arms around her, she hears his words again:

“ _Jyn_ ,” he says. “ _I want to tell you something._ ” (“ _Okay_ ,” she says, not looking up from the blaster she’s cleaning. He takes her oil-smudged hands in his and forces her to look at him.) “ _But before I do, I want you to know, it’s okay if you don’t say anything. I just… want to tell you._ ”

Sleep envelops her then, and she tries to resist, she tries to lift her eyelids, but she doesn’t.

Saw used to say she could sleep running. She was so good, so dedicated, that she could sleep in fifteen minute bursts if she had to, she could catch the winks she needed to get back on her feet and fighting again.

Now she runs in her sleep, in her dreams. She’s running past Kay-Tu, ducking this time, so he can’t grab her by the throat and slam her to the ground and drag her back into the rebellion. She runs through the streets of a city, any city, every city she remembers and ones she doesn’t. The twists and turns lead her to Jedha, cold and dry, explosions in front of her and behind her. She turns a corner and she’s on Eadu, rain pelting her face, screaming for her papa, and she can’t find him so she keeps running, running through mud as Alliance ships drop fire around her, and she keeps running straight on through into the wet beaches of Scarif. She spins around, dizzy, confused by the blue waves and the blue sky and the blue light bursting around her.

Someone is supposed to be with her, but she’s alone, and she spins and spins and she doesn’t see him. And she falls down onto the sand, digging her fingers into it, clenching it in her fists, and there’s someone she’s supposed to be holding, but he hasn’t followed her.

She’s not sure he can find her now.

A green light pierces the horizon, and the horizon blooms before her.

Sleep flees, as if she’s too hot to hold, and she wakes with a gasp. She’s left, as she was before: cold and alone.

#

He doesn’t remember ever being quite this tired. His feet navigate through base as if through sludge, as if the floor is quicksand, and he’s so tired that not even the biting cold air of Hoth can shock the sleep from his eyes.

There’s just one last task he budgets for. He pulls out his data pad and searches the base manifest, scrolling through the arrivals, but of course, he would have _seen_ the Millenium Falcon in the hangar.

His room is cold. The sheets are cold. His pillow is cold. He wants to sleep, but he doesn’t know what waits for him there.

#

Jyn starts searching the hangar before she even leaves the ramp. Her eyes scan the crowd, and she doesn't have “ocular installations” the way Kay does, but she swears she can usually pick out Cassian’s face with an uncustomary quickness.

Not today, apparently.

“Welcome back, Jyn,” Chirrut says, rising from his seat on a stack of crates.

Jyn hugs him, still looking over his shoulder. It's evening on Hoth; the crowd in the hangar is thinning, mostly just night crew, droids, and dutiful technicians still tending to their ships.

This isn't because she didn't answer him back, is it? Because before he’d said— _those_ words—he’d sworn she didn’t need to say anything at all, let alone repeat them back...

When Chirrut pulls away, he's worried. He looks her up and down and grips her shoulder.

And Jyn braces herself at that look, so sure he's about to tell her: Cassian didn't make it back from his last mission. And she can’t—she can’t—

“Jyn. Breathe. Cassian is fine. He’s just having a rough week. You should go see him.”

She doesn’t look back. She’ll apologize to Chirrut later.

#

When his door slides open, Cassian doesn’t move. He stays still, seated at the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, face in his hands. Somewhere far outside him, the door slides closed, a bag thumps onto the floor, booted footsteps thunk towards him.

A shadow falls over him, and he thinks he’s fallen asleep sitting, eager ghosts sweeping in for the kill. But the shadow shifts and kneels before him.

A hand slides up his arm, cold and hot at once, gently prying his hands away from his face. Fingers trace his cheek, his jaw. He opens his eyes.

A face fills his vision. And he’s so tired, he almost doesn’t believe it, but she takes his hand and puts it on her cheek, and it’s her, she’s real, she’s here. They both go in at the same time, lips crashing clumsily, and neither of them care, and they topple and fumble their way into bed.

As their heads hit the pillows, they pull away, drowsy and ready to dream. Jyn takes Cassian’s hand in hers.

“I missed you,” she mumbles into the pillow.

“Likewise,” he breathes.

“Cassian,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that pulls him back from the peaceful sleep he’s been longing for. He forces his eyes open, and her eyes are inches from his. He realizes he never turned off the light, but doesn’t move. “I want to tell you something.”

His breath hitches, but even he couldn’t dare to hope.

“I love you, too.”

He lets out his sigh, long and content. He might be dreaming already, but he’ll take it.

“There’s my smile,” she says, snuggling closer, burrowing her face into his shoulder. He wraps an arm around her and kisses the top of her head and breathes her in. “No more separate missions,” she adds.

“Yes, ma’am.”

They drift off together, floating up into soft slumber. Even with the light still on, they have no trouble sleeping.


End file.
